


rabbit food

by watername



Category: SHINee
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-23 22:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17089118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watername/pseuds/watername
Summary: Jinki’s neck was a different circumference, and Kibum’s hands a different width. The longer span of his fingers made it easier to encircle his neck. Fingertips grazing at the damp nape, and his thumbs a parentheses around the frantic bob of his apple.(in which jinki is a dom, except when he's not)





	rabbit food

**Author's Note:**

> vaguely fantasy elements, such as jinki not being quite human and having moments of biologically necessary sub-ness. mostly an excuse to write switch jinki.

Kibum has to hold back a contented murmur as he wraps himself around Jinki’s sleeping form. It wouldn’t do to wake him prematurely.

The other man is scrunching up his nose as he sleeps, his fingers twitching blindly as they search for something to hold onto. They are tics of movement that Kibum has long been familiar with, long felt the tactile guesses against his chest. Eventually, he finds Kibum's left hand, propped up on his hip and waiting to be found. Their fingers interlace together in his sleep and Kibum's cautious wakefulness. Jinki's breathing evens out; his light snores resume and reverberate around the warm cavern of his chest. Kibum, bookended against him, takes comfort in the familiar vibrations of it.

He presses a kiss against the back of his neck, and squeezes their hands together tighter than normal, reassured when his boyfriend does the same.

He hopes Jinki will remember this part when the next few days are over. That has always made things easier.

* * *

_Kibum felt his brow knit together as he processed the information. In and out, he took a deep breath to even the fluttering, unfamiliar uncertainty in his chest. He wanted to be straightforward with Jinki, whose concern was as obvious as his attempt to keep it under control._

_"What does this mean for us?" he asked quietly. The urge to fidget, he pushed down ruthlessly until it hid at the tips of toes, curling them inside his socks, safely hidden from sight._

_Jinki began to get up before starting to respond; the bookshelf behind them drew his eyeline._

_"I can show you my notes,” he offered; he rocked forward on his knees. His left hand braced against the still warm bedsheets as he leaned past Kibum; when he pulled back, it was with his journal. Kibum had presumed it was full of his private thoughts, dreams, concerns. In moments full of fondness and sentimentality, when Jinki had put it away and then looked at Kibum with a smile, he never once thought it included accounts of how Jinki became something else._

_No, he never imagined his boyfriend wouldn’t be human._

_"No,” he said, more sharply than intended. The caution was written painfully bare on Jinki's sparse, careful posture. It was startlingly alien to Kibum in this room._

_He tried to be softer. He always had to try._

_“No,” he said once more. “I understand the - the logistics. But what do you want this to mean for our relationship?"_

_Jinki was turning 30 in just two months, plenty of time for experience, for set processes._

_"Do you have someone for this already? Do you – do you want me to be involved, or do you want to keep - doing what you have been doing?”_

_Some of the softness Kibum loved resettled onto Jinki, gentling the curve of his jaw. Kibum let his hand palm down his leg, stretching out the fingers and leaving them for Jinki to take when he wanted to. Waiting, he rubbed a blanket between his thumb and forefinger. It only took a moment for Jinki's hand to find his, to let Kibum envelop theirs._

_"It means,” he started slowly, thoughtfully. His lips pursed together. “Whatever you would want it to mean. I understand it’s different from us now, and it’s not something I should expect you to be OK with, especially not when we haven’t been together very long –“_

_His knuckles were turning white at the crests._

_“I’m OK with it,” Kibum said, sharp and sure. “It’s not like you asked for this, if I understand it right.”_

_You do,” Jinki said, lifting up their joined hands and warmly kissing Kibum’s. “But it’s a lot to take in. I’m not going to hold any discomfort against you. There are ways around it, ways to make it less – intrusive – but ignoring it is not an option for me. But - it can be. An option for you, I mean.”_

_His voice didn’t waver, but his eyes had shuttered. Kibum threw himself, sudden as a gasp, circling his arms around Jinki in an embrace. He felt his eyes still closed against his cheek, and pulled his hand free. He let it run down all the parts he had grown familiar with: the softness of his hair, the sensitive skin at his neck, his shoulder; the strong lines of his back. Nothing had changed._

_Nothing had changed, so he had his answer, and he waited for Jinki to be ready to hear it._

* * *

He gets up first, careful to extract himself slowly, to put pillows in all the places Jinki's body expects pressure. His boyfriend immediately rubs his face against the nearest one that still holds his scent. His legs rub against each other, searching for stimulation as one foot pushes down on the other. His muscles strain and Kibum's gaze lingers for a moment before he moves on. He shouldn't waste time.

The kitchen is cool and crisp, and he pulls sleeves over his fists in defense before opening up the fridge and pulling out the meals for the day - yogurt for the morning, with raspberries and strawberries. He pulls out the cutting board and a carton of each. The gentle rhythm and scrape of the knife against the wood is the only noise in the apartment, and Kibum wallows in the domestic peace. The juices bleed into the lines of his palms and he sucks the tip of his finger and smiles at the ripe sweetness. 

When there's nothing left but small chunks of each, he scoops them up and deposits them into a jar, washes his hands, and braces himself above the sink. The bedroom is still silent, still quiet to his waiting and ready senses, but Jinki might be waking up any moment, and he'll be looking for him. 

His body gives an involuntary shiver at the thought, and he twists his neck, back and forth, suddenly sensitive to any lingering stiffness. He pushes his hands against the counter and arches back until an  ache flows down his legs with gentle heat, before going back up his spine. His forehead rests against the cool tile of the counter, his thumbs drumming aimlessly against the surface.  

An overwarm hand slides beneath his shirt. He almost jumps, but for the sudden bracketing of hands clutching at his hips. 

Jinki folds his body over his, straightening them both up wordlessly. His breath peppers unsteadily; Kibum feels Jinki swallow with effort to speak. 

"Come back to bed," he says, failing to stop a shudder that ratchets through their touching bodies. "Please, Kibum."

The smell of raspberries and strawberries is still on his skin. 

* * *

_The sound was needy, edging into a shameless whine, and it stopped Kibum right in his tracks, his hand hovered above the door knob. There was no light, not even the halo of the soft streetlight halogen, escaping beneath the door. The idea of walking blindly into this for the first time made Kibum hesitate, even as he had promised Jinki  that he could do this for him._

_There was buzzing, beneath the whines. A throaty moan that pulled like static electricity at the hairs on his arms. He had only left Jinki to sleep a few hours ago, the other man filled with his reassurances._

_"Goodbye," Jinki had said, with a tentative half-smile. His feet poked out beneath the sheet, until Kibum patted his fingers against them and he pulled them underneath obediently._

_"Good night," Kibum had corrected the moment after. He leaned down to kiss him sweetly and carefully threaded his hairs between his fingers. It felt normal, domestic. As though they were any other pair, and Kibum was leaving for a short while, both sure to see each other soon and pick up again._

_He understood now, as he pushed the door open, why Jinki spoke with finality._

_His eyes were wild. They didn't recognize him at all. The buzz was louder, shifting in volume as Jinki turned from laying on his side to his back, and then again. The air smelled heavy and wet and vaguely earthy._

_The sheets bunched up beneath his feet, as though he had been grasping desperately for leverage._

_"Jinki," he started to say, careful, low. He held his hand out, just as Jinki told him to, palm down. "It's okay. It's me."_

_"You," he saw Jinki mouth the word, unsure if he spoke it because all he could hear was the buzzing, and the mounting sound of his own heart._

_"Me," he said, willing his voice to come out authoritatively. "Kibum, Jinki. Kibum."_

_Jinki's eyes finally found his, and they lit up as quickly as fire given gasoline. Shaking, he pushed himself up with both hands, slipping on the sheets. As he moved the sweat in his hair caught the small amount of light coming in from behind Kibum, and glistened. Jinki paused at the end of the bed, his boxers distended. Closer, more illuminated than before, Kibum saw that Jinki was shaking._

_Words wouldn't do, Jinki had told him, not on their own._

_He made himself walk forward, and dropped his hand onto Jinki's head, petting in calm, rhythmic strokes. He wouldn't shake, he wouldn't be uncertain, he wouldn't doubt. His other hand found Jinki's neck and his pulse hammered relentlessly beneath his skin._

_He wanted to ask what Jinki wanted, because it still seemed so unreal. Jinki was no actor, not like this, not for intimacy. What he enjoyed was obvious and unbridled  - he loved to kiss Kibum, he loved to fuck Kibum. He laughed, and Kibum laughed with him, when his fingers gripped around Kibum's hips, where they pinch and hold, errantly turn into tickles. He looked up at Kibum, the weight of his cock heavy in his mouth, to see Kibum's expression, to take satisfaction in how he took in hasty hisses of air. He shared with jinki the purple spots on the pale skins of his thighs, afterwards, and Jinki counted them off with satisfaction because they both knew it was how they wanted it. How they wanted each other._

_To have Jinki boiling in his own skin, frantic, needy energy rippling off of him, beckoning to be corralled and muzzled - it was new and near-unsettling._

_His hand was still lying at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and Jinki pushed against it, making his breathing harder, more unstable. It jolted Kibum back into awareness._

   _He wondered if Jinki would want to count his own afterwards, or if he would accept any acknowledgement at all. He bent down, and moved his hand for a moment so he could put his lips there, breathe - not an apology, or a regret, but a promise. That he would do this, because Jinki asked him to. That he would give him everything he could, because he wanted to. An anointment kiss, a small blessing; no boundaries crossed without sanction._

  _Jinki’s neck was a different circumference, and Kibum’s hands a different width. The longer span of his fingers made it easier to encircle his neck. Fingertips grazing at the damp nape, and his thumbs a parentheses around the frantic bob of his apple._

_Eyes, that Kibum knew the shape of, but not the content – full, wet, and wanting. Uncontrolled and seeking tempering._

_“Kibum,” Jinki breathed out, realizing. Relief that Kibum was sure he wasn't going to get crashed down over him, and he let himself smile, remembering how Jinki would do the same for him, every time, and how it would make Kibum glow and blossom._

_He moved his hands up, his thumbs now firm against the soft underside of his jaw. Bruises, he thought, before tilting Jinki’s head back to kiss the small space between. Bruises, but not apologies._

_“Don’t worry, bunny,” he said, voice firm and very, very controlled. “I’m here.”_

* * *

Kibum wraps his arm around Jinki's waist protectively, and the other man burrows against him, content to be walked back to the bedroom. He shivers at the touch Kibum carefully initiates at the line of his waist. It's still early, but there’s growing sensitivity fluttering the ends of his nerves, and it feels contagious, like it’s in the still air, swirling in the sunlight.

He tightens his hold and pulls, turning Jinki towards the bed and directing him to sit down.

“Can you tell me what you want?” he asks, and Jinki shakes his head unevenly.

“No,” he swallows before continuing. His neck flushes red. “Please help.”

He kneels down in front of Jinki and begins rubbing at the muscles of his thighs, ignoring the scratchy graze of hair against his palms. He leans forward; Kibum can feel his breath hitching as though to breathe him in again. His body is a solid canopy over Kibum for a moment before Kibum stops, pushes his nails into soft flesh.

He whimpers, and his cock jumps at the attention.

“Wait,” he says, and Jinki shifts beneath him, but obeys. He relaxes his grip, only slightly, and begins again. His thumbs press hard at tight, coiled knots that won’t ever quite go away, hard enough to hurt, but that was the whole point. They’re a pale, milky color that will turn purple once they are through and Jinki is sated.

His breathing relaxes more, becoming languid and indulgent, as Kibum ministers at his knees for the next few minutes. His fingers only shadow at the hint of thicker, darker hair at the end of each motion, sure of the time they have.

When he finally stops, Jinki’s eyes are half-lidded, and his cock is hard and eager. He doesn’t notice Kibum pulling out from beneath the bed their container, and from it something he spins lazily around his finger, waiting for Jinki to notice.

A minor chord escapes from him, hitching half-formed, but he stays pliant as Kibum slides the cock ring over him. When it’s tight, clenched around the base of Jinki’s cock, he puts his hand right above it, in the coarse hair, and pushes until he falls backwards.

Prone on the bed, he lies, fitfully twitching at the careful touches he graces his skin with – a brush against the hip, a light flick across his nipple, the caress of a knuckle against his sternum – but he stays complacent as Kibum evaluates him.

It’s almost enough to make him buck up, he knows, the waiting for him to finish his appraisal of his body. He can feel how his gaze is a near-physical sensation for Jinki, how his eyes alight on the bare skin of his waist. The muscles of his upper arms are wired, waiting in tension for some sort of release.

“Legs up,” he says. “Knees to your chest, bunny.”

He obeys, near-instant and now he does buck, a small motion he almost manages to hide as his thighs pull up and strain at the near parallel to his stomach. It’s a beautiful picture, the twitching openness contrasting with the darkening, restrained swell jutting away.

The small tube lets out a cold, wet noise when he squeezes a dollop onto his fingers, and Jinki bites down on a whimper too late for Kibum not to hear it, and doesn’t try at all to bite down on the next when Kibum swipes his fingers carelessly close.

It makes a mess that’s mostly a promise, especially when he pulls Jinki’s legs down without touching him further.

He can almost hear the pout, but what has his attention now is Jinki’s lovely hips, the small points of them he captures briefly with his still-wet hands. They slick and slide up as he holds him down and mounts him, lets his bound member scrape against the comfortably soft material of his pants.

Jinki licks his lips, the wet point of his tongue a deliberate tease Kibum recognizes for what it is. He strikes down, sucking hard at his bottom lip and letting his teeth graze ungently before he releases it. When he pulls away, it’s only to meet his eyes more openly, to show how completely undisturbed he is by Jinki’s growing, sluttish need.

It almost hurts Kibum, to hold so fast and so unyielding when he’s grinding his body against the bed, an opposite motion trained into him that still only barely refrains from making a reckless, desperate motion upwards for more sensation. Everything in his body wants to meet his, wants to let him kiss and fawn and wriggle his way into Kibum’s lap. He wants Jinki’s lips on his; he wants his hands trembling and shaking in his hair when he nuzzles against his inner thighs; he wants to twist around onto the bed and pull him tight, skin to skin as he pushes inside and the way that Jinki sighs when he’s couched to the hilt – he wants nothing more than that, and his own cock is distressed and near-leaking at the thought. But Jinki looks up at him, eyes lidded and wet, and Kibum only blinks slowly and waits for him to beg instead.

He doesn’t say anything, so Kibum moves along, methodical as he brushes his fingers through Jinki’s hair. It’s been growing out, and it twists nicely around his index.

He cries out, his neck bending into an arc. Kibum’s eyes catch on his Adam’s apple and how it presses, striving, against his skin. It provokes him to change his approach, abruptly. He pulls his hand free of his hair and turns around without a word, letting him fidget in the silence and uncertainty. His shirt hangs loose on his frame as he pads across the room to their dresser, to his jewelry box. A length of ribbon, dark red and velvety, that he had grabbed without a full plan of how to use it. 

As he turns around, its length twined around his fingers, Jinki's apple bobs again when he sees it, and Kibum wonders if subconsciously he knew how good it would look. 

He bites his lip and leans up on his elbows, his eyes locked onto it until it's out of view, encircling his neck in a tight clutch for when Kibum can't do it himself.

He lets himself take a moment to admire it, applauding his own sense of aesthetic at the full picture: a bind around the red of his neck, a bind around the purple of his cock, and still some of that sheen around the center, especially as Jinki briefly hitches his knees up and kicks his legs back out, likely for some sense of relief. 

"Pretty, pretty," he says, unable to help himself, and he's not sure if Jinki really understands him, or if simply the appreciative, low tone of his voice is enough, but his cheeks are bright and pink, a sudden flush of simple pleasure. 

"Very pretty," he continues, stripping his own shirt off, and reflexively slapping down against his thigh. The look in his eyes says enough, that the urgency of their time together is actively waxing, but there's no relying on Jinki to stay patient when he's like this. It's up to Kibum to set the pace, so he pulls and pushes at Jinki until he's where he needs him: the sharp blades of his shoulders against the cold wall, a pillow braced against his lower back. He spreads his knees, stretching to wide to broach the span of his chest. With one hand supporting his weight on the wall, his other hand pulls at the strings of his pants and withdraws his own stiff cock. 

Jinki's mouth drops open without any further prompting, something he rewards with a quick stroke of his head; with the release of his support, he quickly falls forward, and Jinki draws him into his mouth gratefully. 

His lips are something he has always loved, and they wrap around him like a tight, anxious embrace. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets himself swim in the generous sensation of his tongue. He can feel his hands dance fitfully, flitting on and off his legs as though he was too hot to touch for long. 

Even as he looms over his prone figure, he doesn't need to do anything further but let Jinki's head jerk forward and fall back, compulsively sucking and licking for more. He grits his teeth, and breathes in his through his nose at a forcibly measured pace. He wants to push himself in, to grind his cock into his mouth and feel the unyielding clench of his throat close around him. He can feel the dribble of his saliva escape through the corner of his mouth and tangle in his own trimmed hair. It must be coating him as well, and he lets his hand drift down from near his ear, to his neck, drawn forward to cup the slickened ball of his chin. The motion of his jaw is obvious, the slight adjustments he's constantly making to keep the sensation of a hard, pleased cock in his throat. 

Slipping upwards, his fingers find his lips, feeling with satisfaction how plump they are, how undoubtedly bruised and swollen they are becoming with every urgent push Jinki takes.

With a start, he realizes how off-track he's come, but it's almost comical, how uselessly late it is. A groan is escaping him, his breathing is seizing and rattling in his throat, and Jinki pulls away, his eyes wide in fascination and hunger. He is coming and, frustrated and exultant, he slams his hand against the wall, bathing his arm in pain. He breathes hard, his eyes shut and his head hanging, and when he opens them again, Jinki's face is splattered, and he's skimming his thumb against the largest spot, and bringing it to his mouth to suck clean with a small moan of longing.   

He sets himself down on the bed and watches Jinki clean himself, the tiniest amount being savored. Only once he's done, does he loop his fingers around the dark red ribbon. 

"Come on, bunny. Let's get you some real food."

* * *

The jar is where he left it. He pulls Jinki along into the kitchen, the ribbon a makeshift collar that rubs tight along the lines of his neck. His neglected cock bobs along with him on every step, but Kibum ignores it as he positions him against the counter. Wordless, knowing how full and malleable and submissive Jinki is at this moment, he turns his back on him and fumbles along to put it together. 

It's just a few minutes, and he loops his fingers around the ribbon again and guides them to the table. Raspberries and strawberries, Jinki's nose twitches at the smell, and he eagerly moves forward to meet the spoon he offers to him. The white smear of yogurt, his tongue dips out to retrieve it in a perverted reminder that he judiciously ignores. Instead, he puts together another spoonful and holds it out for him, again and again, until the offering is all finished. 

Jinki leans back, fully shameless of his nudity. His chest heaves up as he sighs. Kibum knows it doesn't last long, this interim, especially as he failed to guide Jinki as he should have - but he will let him have it. The rest of their home is quiet and unaffected from their bedroom activities. There's even the noise of light traffic outside, a bit of wind brushing at the curtains, and it helps calm Kibum down as well, helping him find his center again. It's almost normal, aside from the ring still tight around Jinki's cock, and the soft collar around his neck. 

Kibum's lips quirk. It's normal enough for them, now. He wonders idly if he could persuade Jinki to wear the ribbon more often; the arousal that inspired the impetuous grab in the first place has dimmed, but he still admires the dark cut of it against his throat. He always had a lovely neck, a pretty column calling for decoration. And, almost as if Jinki could hear what he was thinking, or perhaps he had some of his normal senses coming back for a moment, he swallows hard, making it shift subtly with the motion.

His eyes are still calmer, still sedated by the two feedings he's had, but he knows they'll glaze over again soon enough.

He stands up from his own chair and moves, quick and sharp, to lean down and kiss him softly before that can happen. There's a small spark of awareness when he stops that makes him want to smile, and the twitch of Jinki's own swollen lips lets him know he appreciates the gesture, even if he won't be able to put it into words for now. 

As though he's asking him to dance, he holds out his hand, asking Jinki to submit once more. 

* * *

"Do you want your ring, bunny?" he asks, as Jinki lies, spread, upon the bed. While he doesn't expect a voiced response, his awareness at the interlude has him optimistic that he may get a nod, or a shake, but nothing comes. He peers at him, and see his eyes darkened over. The musk of their earlier activities is still weighing down the air; it's a visceral reminder to Kibum, and and even more tangible one to Jinki. It strips him of all but his most carnal capacities: he knows the rhythm of a fucking cock, the strain of a bending back, the appeal of a searching tongue, but little else.

He climbs on to the bed to join him, wraps his hands around his ankles, and pushes his legs back. Knees nearly at his head, he overhears his increasingly tattered breathing the longer he searchingly gazes at his waiting gap. 

There's still some lubricant smeared across his thighs, but not nearly enough for it to be smooth. Licking at his fingers, he draws the tip of his index in a lazy, unhurried circle that causes his cock to strain, freshly reminded of its binds. He pushes down at one of the walls until it widens to his satisfaction. It doesn't close as he expects it to, for an initial motion. 

"This morning," he says, obviously, but wanting to hear the words hang in the air. 

Jinki moans; his hole flutters in the acknowledgement he can't make. Kibum's stomach knots itself, knowing that as he hummed domestically over food, Jinki was twisting and fingering himself helplessly to stave it off for as long as he could.

He dips down and lets his tongue lave over the circumference slowly. A choked noise filters down to his ears, but he ignores it. He spreads his hands up the back of his legs; his fingers span as wide as they can and he presses down to keep him stable and secure. He holds the blade of his tongue sharp and pushes it in, teasing with the in and out of the motion as he feels him quake with want. One of his hands relents slightly; it moves until he finds the stiffened and abused length of his cock and the hard, slippery ring at the bottom of it. He fumbles with it, knowing the prospect of release is only making him more fragile and eager. 

Pulling back, he nips at the soft flesh of his thigh because it's there, and sharpen all the points of sensation until it crests over. Jinki's face at the moment is what he wants, so he moves his head up even more, his teeth leaving a trail of marks along his skin. He wants to see it; his fingers are pulling at the ring and, as consequence, his cock, and he wants Jinki to see him, to know it was him who was there. 

"Jinki," he says for the first time, murmuring it against the sweat of his abdomen. The breath of it swings up his chest and his nipples bud at the slight breeze. His mouth is slack and wide and he's close, Kibum knows he is. 

He frees him of the cock ring in one motion, and in the next skips his fingers down to find the still loose gap; he pushes inside without warning and Jinki lurches like he's been shocked, his exclamation a sharp yelp that dies in a near-instant. Kibum probes inside him with expertise, twisting his digits in a knowing path that has him gasping with pleasure. His cock, finally free, leaks eagerly and thickly. 

Intent of seeing him, and being seen, Kibum ignores it, fixated on the curl of his digits and the intricacies of Jinki's expression, how it skips from pleasure to pain to desperation and back over again. He finally lands on the final object inside of him, and pushes without further thought. Jinki, shaking, shifts forward, so angled, that for a moment he feels as though he'll have more to clean off, more to clean up his fingers and his mouth, but instead the release pools beside Kibum. 

When his eyes open, they land on Kibum, and he presses a kiss to his stomach. 

"Hi bunny."

Jinki smiles, his eyes clear.

"Hi."


End file.
